I'm Never Enough For You

I'm never enough for you

local frog boy

“i am NEVER letting that jolly blonde fuck drive the motorcycle again.”

The one thing i hate about the Stardew valley fandom is how a lot of people demonize mental health issues. Like, Being somebody with clinical depression, PTSD and autism it really upsets me when people are mean about Shane and Kent.

They treat Hailey like she's the perfect woman because she's mean then Treat Shane like the scum of the earth for being mean as well.

I have a caffine addiction, and while it's not as horrible as having an alcohol addiction it's still an addiction that im trying to overcome and i have depression as well. So seeing people treat Shane like that, plus calling him a liar when he's not 100% happy and sober all the time it really upsets me to see how he's treated, and i don't like him because I want to fix him, its just nice to see depression portrayed so realistically and to feel represented in media and i just want to be there for him. I can relate to him, and when people insult him and treat him like the bad guy for being mean and depressed and not 100% sober i feel like im doing something wrong and I'm a bad person for having depression and anxiety

And i have PTSD over very different things then kent, but I understand things that trigger memories to events, if I see the person who mistreated me in life or if somebody mentions middle school I get really upset and will go on a rant about it, when I get so upset I get angry im brought back to those horrible memories, and I understand why hes stressed over something that seems minimal to others And people are mean about him too, hes not a bad person he's just got PTSD and he doesn't know how to handle it. I feel bad for him when the community is mean to him over that cutscene.

and these are fictional characters it makes me scared how they would treat a real human being with similar issues, like me. I joke about if you hate these characters you should hate me too but like, it really pisses me off how this community treats mental illnesses And being somebody with these issues i really just want to spread awareness on how i personally feel when people say horrible things about these clearly mentally ill characters that have issues that real people have

Mental illness isn't black and white y'know, and if you think it is i think you might wanna get your eyes checked because you might just be completely colorblind, or blind in general. the actual mental toll it puts on real people to be represented by characters who's mental illnesses are portrayed very realistically only to be treated poorly by uneducated fans of the series/game/movie/ etc. It's very heartbreaking to me personally..

I just want fans of Stardew to be more mindful of characters like shane and Kent because there are real people like them that have the same issues as them. You don't have to like them just understand that real people have been through the same things they have and be respectful of that. i mean I don't like Harvey but I am respectful of people with anxiety, I have anxiety too. I think everyone does at this point.. but i would never undermine his anxiety or say he's a horrible person Because he's anxious that's a disgusting thing to imply and it should be the same way with characters like shane and Kent but it's not that way

The double standard with shane and hailey is an argument that may just involve sexism but that's an entirely different argument that i don't wanna get into rn, but just know, you don't necessarily have to be a nice person to be a good person, and vise versa.

Tldr: you guys need to stop saying Shane and kent are bad people for having mental illnesses, it's really gross and insulting to those with mental illnesses

gaza has just been completely cut off from the world.

after increased intensity of israeli aistrikes tonight, the last cable providing communications was destroyed. telecommunications have been completely cut off. they cannot reach one another. they cannot reach paramedics. the red crescent society has completely lost contact with their branch in gaza. nobody inside can reach anyone inside, and especially not outside of gaza to tell us what is going on. this is a complete atrocity.

Hello, I was wondering if I could request Kent x Reader if you don’t mind since you said requests are open? The dynamic being an oblivious farmer who is just very polite and unaware as fuck while Kent is basically just like “I would both kill and die for you” (I apologize I am completely obsessed with him)

I don’t personally feel anything but platonic fondness for the rest of the townies, so this was a really nice challenge. It did take me forever to write because it gave me a lot of trouble and I kept rewriting it, but I eventually landed on this and I’m pretty pleased with it. They’re both dumb, but they figure themselves out by the end. I really hope I did your prompt justice, anon, and that maybe it was worth the wait! Enjoy! <3

2650-ish Words. This is a monster. I don’t like writing infidelity, so you can be sure that there is a hefty amount of canon divergence, even if I don’t mention anything outright. GN!Farmer. This is a little suggestive at certain moments, they flirt quite a bit (Kent does it knowingly, the Farmer does not because they are an oblivious shit), and there’s drinking, but nobody’s drunk. Ah, and there’s cursing, and Kent imagines the Farmer being all roughed up once (nothing explicit), and I use “Yoba” instead of “God.” Yanno. For immersion. I do say “fuck you” to the immersion in favor of using our twelve-month calendar year, though, so. There’s also that. Lmfao

Kent swirls the scotch in his glass, watching the amber liquid slosh around with the ice. It’s Friday night, half-past seven p.m., and the saloon is lively and bright. He’s been people-watching since he arrived, settled alone in his little corner. Marnie and Lewis still haven’t figured out their shit, Robin is attempting to teach Demetrius to dance without stepping on her toes once again, and Elliott is lamenting his writer’s block to Leah at the table over.

Same old, same old.

“Evening. This seat taken?” The Farmer asks, a nearly-empty drink in hand and a knowing grin on their face. 

Except for this. This is a relatively new development.

Kent smiles up at them. “You know it isn’t.”

“Just in case.” The Farmer settles down on the stool next to him, the legs of their newly claimed chair screeching terribly against the worn down hardwood of the saloon. His heart tries to leap out of his throat and into their careful, calloused hands, but he swallows it down with another sip of liquor. It burns his throat terribly, but he welcomes the distraction.

“I haven’t seen you at the saloon in a while,” Kent says, his voice rough from the alcohol. They take a sip of their own drink—something deep red and fruity, with a cherry sitting at the bottom of their glass.

“I try to take a little break at least once a week, but last week was hectic as hell.” They sigh, a satisfied smile on their lips as they sit back.

“Yeah? You get a lot of work done on the farm?” Kent asks, openly checking them out as they set their drink down and stretch their arms high over their head. A few months ago he would’ve been more discreet, but now he’s given up entirely on subtlety. The Farmer never notices anyway. The face they make as they stretch has his mouth going dry, and he drinks a too-large sip of his scotch, trying not to make a face about it.

“Before the snow hit, yeah, but now there isn’t really anything for me to do. Winter doesn’t make it easy for crops, so I’ve been collecting other things to sell. Animal products, gems, that sort of thing.” The Farmer settles down, done with their stretching, and Kent silently thanks the universe for giving him a break. “Actually, I was in the desert today. I haven’t been to the skull caverns in a while, so I spent most of the day down there.”

He immediately rescinds his gratitude, and sets his glass down with a sharp thunk.

“You went to the caverns?”

The Farmer nods, shrugging a bit as their mouth twists into a frown. “Yeah, but it wasn’t a great run, if I’m honest. A few gems and geodes. I wanted iridium ore, but there was basically nothing. I only got three nuggets from what was there because I spent so long beating back monsters.”

That last bit has Kent’s blood running backward, and he taps his fingers on the table-top, the beat agitated and quick. “That’s unfortunate.” 

The Farmer snorts. “Yeah, tell me about it. I could’ve gotten more done if I just stayed home, honestly. But it’s my fault for going on a bad luck day.”

He doesn’t know what the fuck that means, if he’s honest, and he’s not particularly superstitious himself, but he’s learned not to question them. Except now the thought of the Farmer being overrun by monsters won’t dissipate, and it’s making his stomach turn. He clenches his jaw. 

“You should bring me with you next time.”

The Farmer looks up at him, their eyes wide and stunned for only a moment before they’re chuckling into their glass. “Yeah? You wanna be my good luck charm, Kent?”

Yoba, he does.

The Farmer licks their lips clean, and whatever juice Gus mixed up with their alcohol has stained their lips and tongue a ruddy red.

He leans forward, propping his chin up on the palm of his hand, and smiles. “I could be.”

They laugh outright, bright and delighted. Kent absently notices the quick glances they’re receiving from the other patrons. Nosy.

“You know, I was talking with some of the ladies at Caroline’s aerobics class on Tuesday,” the Farmer starts, rolling the stem of their glass between their pinched fingers. Their smile is soft. “They said something interesting about you.”

Kent raises an amused eyebrow. “You gossiping about me, Farmer?”

“It was against my will, I assure you.” They deadpan, and Kent laughs, covering his grin with a wide palm.

“Enlighten me, then: what trivia did they bestow upon you against your will?” Kent asks.

“They said you never smile unless you’re with me,” The Farmer says quickly, rushed out in one breath like they can't say it fast enough. Kent’s eyes widen, and he’s pretty sure there’s steam rising from the top of his head, but the Farmer doesn’t catch any of it because they refuse to look at him. “And that I’m the only one who’s been able to make you laugh, since you came back.”

They were gossiping like roosting hens, the lot of them. Kent sighs heavily, harsh and a little embarrassed. How can they see it, but not the Farmer?

Still…

“They’re wrong, actually.” Kent straightens up, pushing his near empty glass aside. 

“Yeah?” The Farmer asks, and Kent doesn’t try to think too hard about why they sound so disappointed, or why they’re fighting back a frown.

“Even before getting drafted, I wasn’t like this.” Kent admits, and he can feel the tips of his ears flushing hotly at what he’s about to confess next. “I’ve never been like this with anyone, actually.”

“Oh.” The Farmer blinks owlishly, their hand stilling on their glass. “Really?”

Kent shakes his head, humming an affirmative. “Just you.”

“So… I’m special?” They ask, and it’s obvious they’re joking, the tilt of their lips just a little too teasing, but he doesn’t care. It’s obvious, and they’ll figure it out for themselves eventually.

“Are you going to the caverns again tomorrow?” Kent asks instead of answering, flagging down Emily for the bill. She notices immediately, and Kent knows it’s because she was staring. Everyone is always fucking staring.

“Um.” The Farmer picks at a loose thread on their shirt, even though there isn’t one. He doesn’t mention it. “Yeah, I was—I was thinking about it, if the day’s luck is good.”

“You don’t need to check if it is.” Kent watches Emily walk out from behind the bar, the bill and a pen in hand. “I’ll be your good luck charm, remember?”

The Farmer opens their mouth to respond, with the prettiest blush on their face, but Emily finally appears at their table, effectively cutting them off.

“Here you are,” Emily says, a curious smile on her face as she hands him the bill. 

He sets the bill on the table and reaches into his pocket for his wallet. “Thanks, Emily. How’s business tonight?” 

“Fridays are always busy, so it’s going well, I suppose. What about you two? How’s your night so far?” She asks, mischief sparkling in her calculating blue eyes. Even if Kent didn’t know her and Haley were siblings, the way they look at the world would give it away immediately. Haley’s eyes are far more cunning, but still. Two peas in a pod.

Kent places a few heavy coins in the tray, making sure to tip her a few extra than usual, and passes it back. “Great, but we’ve got plans to go into the desert early tomorrow, so we’re gonna head out.”

“Calico Desert?” Emily asks, and Kent is almost surprised she doesn’t push for more info. “My friend Sandy lives over there!”

Ah. That’s why.

“I’ll make sure to say hi to her for you,” The Farmer jumps in, making deliberate eye contact with Emily. The smile on their face is polite, but distracted.

“Would you?” Emily smiles gratefully. “Thanks, Farmer. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.” The Farmer’s returning smile is genuine this time, and Kent’s heart thumps heavily against his ribcage. If they make his heart race any more, he’ll have to check in with Harvey for potential bruising.

“Well, you’re all set, so y’all have a good night,” Emily says with a smile, reaching out to pluck their empty glasses off the table.

“You too.” Kent stands up, pushing his chair in and waiting for the Farmer to get up to their feet. “Are you ready to go? Got everything?”

The Farmer nods, and Kent follows them with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets as they walk out. He takes one hand out to hold the door for them as they step out into the frigid winter air, and almost immediately his fingers are numb. He’s never been able to handle the cold very well. It’s in his best interest to head home, to get out of it and into some central heating, but…

“Can I walk you home?” Kent asks quietly, after the door swings shut behind them. The Farmer stops short, and he can’t tell if the flush is from the cold or from something else.

“You’re welcome to, but don’t you hate the cold?” The Farmer gestures vaguely at the snowflakes floating around them. “Shouldn’t I be the one walking you home?”

Kent smiles, his chest suddenly light. “Maybe, but your place is farther, and I don’t wanna say goodnight to you just yet.”

“Like my company that much, huh?” The Farmer asks, cocking their head to the side as they slip their hands into their pockets. The collar of their winter jacket pulls against the back of their neck, and Kent steps onto the icy path. 

“Let’s get you home, Farmer.” Kent starts walking, expecting them to follow. He smiles at the sound of their boots crunching against the frosted grass and gravel, and starts heading for the farmlands.

“You ignoring my questions on purpose, Kent?” They ask, but he knows it isn’t a question.

“Yep.” He nods. “We’re taking the bus tomorrow morning, right? What time should I meet you there?”

They sigh, playfully irritated, and he grins to himself. “Pam usually gets there at 9, so I should be good to head out at eight-fifty? If that works for you?”

“Eight-fifty it is, then. Anything in particular that you’re looking for down there?”

They sigh, looking up at the cloudy sky as they walk past Marnie’s. “Same thing as today. I really need iridium so I can get Clint to upgrade all of my tools before the new year, and I need my hoe upgraded desperately if I want to make a profit off of strawberries next spring.”

“Thinking that far ahead, huh?” Kent glances at the sketchy caravan beyond the trees next to Cindersap, and purposely puts himself between it and the Farmer. 

“Not by much, but I have to if I don’t want to go bankrupt. Strawberries are good for a lot of other stuff, too. I can make jam and wine with them, which are both pretty profitable.”

“Are you going to grow anything else, or just strawberries?”

The Farmer shrugs and unlatches the south gate to their property. “I grow some things year-round in my greenhouse, but I think I’ll only plant strawberries in the fields, since they’re the most profitable.”

“How do you know?” Kent asks, genuinely curious. He doesn’t know shit about farming, truthfully.

“I’ve done the math,” they say, pulling a small notebook out of seemingly fucking nowhere. Kent glares at their jacket in confusion. “They’ve got the highest profit ratio, based on how much I drop on them at Pierre’s stand and how often they grow. Strawberry plants fruit every four days once they’re fully grown, so I can get the most out of them if I start them early.”

They hold out their notebook, flipped to a random page with a smattering of bullet points and notes in their handwriting. There’s a silly doodle of a strawberry at the top of the page, and Kent smiles fondly.

“You’ve got this shit down to a science, Farmer. I’m impressed.”

They snort, and their notebook practically dematerializes as they shove it into their jacket, but he doesn’t see a pocket—where on earth do they put it?

“Two years of fucking up and not planning ahead has taught me to think about the future a little more.” They shrug. “We’ll have to see if I can actually pull it off, though; planning ahead won’t mean anything if I can’t get the iridium ore for it.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. You’ve still got two months left.”

“Two months goes by pretty quickly, though.” They sigh, and Kent watches as the lampposts in front of their house begin illuminating their face.

He swallows hard and averts his stare. He shrugs, forcing himself to be casual. “Well, between the both of us and a little luck, I think we’ll manage it just fine.”

They hum, and he catches their smile through his peripherals.

“Maybe.” The stairs on the Farmer’s porch creak under their weight as they step up to their front door, and Kent knows he has to say goodnight now, but as they go to pluck their keys out of their pocket, he grabs their wrist.

“I know I’ve been kinda pushy, but I want you to tell me honestly.” Kent knows without a shred of doubt that his fingers are nearly frozen against their skin. They look at him, chin angled down with their sudden height difference. He won’t go up their front steps to even it out, though. That’s a boundary he won’t cross, not unless they ask him to. “Is it really alright that I come with you tomorrow? I don’t want you to force yourself to be okay with it if you don’t actually want me there.”

The Farmer’s lips part, and he sees rather than hears their breath of surprise—a cloud of vapor in front of their face, glowing orange in their porch light.

“Why have you been so pushy?” They ask, and now it’s his turn to get ignored. “Why do you want to come with me so badly?”

Kent lets go of their wrist, and his palm burns. He doesn’t have it in him to lie. “Because I’m scared of what might happen to you if I don’t.”

They’re quiet for a long moment, recognition passing over their face, and Kent loves the fact that pity is never something he’ll have to see along with it. Not with the Farmer.

They walk forward, placing a sturdy hand on the banister as they lean in close. “I have one more question for you, Kent. Answer honestly, and I’ll let you come with me.” 

Kent nods stiffly, his eyes flicking everywhere but their own. “I’m great at honesty.”

They hum, and Kent watches, frozen solid as they glance at his lips. “Am I special to you?” 

He bites his lip, the back of his neck burning. “Yeah—yes. You are.”

They nod once, and then step away. Kent watches, a sudden panic thickening in his chest.

“Good.”

Wait, 'good?'

The Farmer unlocks their front door, and opens it wide. They turn around before stepping inside, and their smile is giddy. Kent’s panic subsides. He’s imagined rejection more times than he can count, and he’s pretty sure that’s not what it looks like. “I’ll see you at eight-fifty, okay? Don’t be late—I’d hate to have to leave my good-luck charm behind.”

“Cross my heart.” Kent nods, his own smile just as giddy. 

They close the door, just a bit. Their eyes twinkle. “Goodnight, Kent.” 

“G’night.” He waves, and the cold isn’t nipping at his fingers as much anymore.

When he collapses into bed that night, his skin is flushed and cold, and his heart is thumping erratically in his chest. His smile doesn’t subside, even as he falls asleep.